


Over The River And Through The Woods…

by InterNutter



Series: When We Were Us [12]
Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-29
Updated: 2018-02-03
Packaged: 2019-02-23 16:36:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 15,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13194180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InterNutter/pseuds/InterNutter
Summary: ...to Grandfather's house they go.Lulu and Koko have been through a lot, and they deserve some recovery time. And like everything else that they sorely deserve, they don't get enough of it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All cannon characters belong to the marvellous McElroys, of course. I just made everything else up.
> 
> AN: Still posting a chapter a day because this is still a WIP. I will get back to the short ones, but... not any time soon.

Of course it took months to be cleared. Health checks. Restoration spells. Proper meals. Lice checks. Remove Curses, just in case. And bloodline checks.

Their grandfather, being the oldest High Elf in the entire camp, was popular. He had shaken Fala out of his spell with a simple blessing. “Be true to yourself, care for yourself, and help others wherever you can, and you shall never go wrong wherever you wander.”

And now the helpless and the broken were brought to him. One by one. For all the hours he could stand to do so.

Lulu watched Koko as Suke came back to life under their grandfather’s words. Hope bloomed in his usually pessimistic eyes. Heartbreak flickered there, too. For months, Suke had been… phobic… of Koko’s touch. And now he was free, how would he choose to spend his freedom?

Koko offered his hand. “Suke,” he cooed. “You won’t be hurt anymore.”

Suke’s eyes held trepidation. Uncertainty. “We could hug?”

And Koko’s heart broke all over again. “Sure.” His ears gave him away, drooping down in mourning. He whispered, “I wish we could’ve loved each other…”

“I’ll remember that kiss,” said Suke. “I don’t know if I could do that again.”

Koko spent two days in a huge sulk. Well. A huge heartbreak. He’d said goodbye to Suke’s love a hundred times, but now that it was final? It hurt, raw, all over again.

At least, now, the twins could embrace for as long as they liked. And had done so during their stay in this pocket tent. They had even been able to meditate for longer than an hour at a time. In sync, for the first time since they were twelve.

It actually felt unnatural to be doing it that way, now. But they trusted their grandfather to keep them safe. And it wasn’t the same. Lulu or Koko or both of them would jolt into awareness to check and see if Grampa Tostaada was still watching over them.

Which he was. Two luminous blue eyes had never left them. “Go back to resting, my loves. You’re safe.”

And bit by bit, they could trust him. And sometimes, they watched over him as he effortlessly meditated for four hours in one go. The twins started to think that they could be happy. Which was why they were smiling when the old man took them into a loaded buggy and took them as far away from Saint Vingo’s as they could have liked.

“Now I could have sworn,” he said, “The two of you were both boys. Your dear mother did say, two boys. Bald as an egg. Lulu, you cried nonstop the instant--”

“--I was made to let go of Koko’s hand. I know. For three quarters of an hour, and until it was four minutes past midnight.”

“We know the story, Grampa,” said Koko. “It’s our first story. Please don’t think we’re rude, but… we don’t remember you.”

He cackled. “You were two years old, last I came by. Never feared your witch-eyes, me. ‘S rubbish. Now that man who married your mother… he was a foul heart. He died in my eyes the instant he took the cowards’ trail away from you two.”

“You know our father?” said Lulu.

“Knew,” corrected Grampa. He spat at the ground. “He was a coward, and a villain, and he’s dead to me for all I care. Devil take his name, for  _ I’ll _ never say it.”

Koko felt the world sink out underneath him. Felt his ears droop. “Oh. Damn.”

Lulu snuggled him close. Nameless again. So close and so very, very far.

“What’s bit you two?” asked Grampa.

Lulu was the one to say it. “We can’t remember our family name. And if you won’t say our fathers’…”

“Ha! Far as I’m concerned, you’re Sellsnows. You’re my little darlings, now. Well. Not so little darlings. Sixty-two this midsummer. Probably behind on your studies.” He reached over to awkwardly pat Koko. “Never fear, now. Lots of that happening with the wars. They say they’re winding down. That place you were trapped in did a lot to garner sympathy. Terrible business. Terrible. Terrible…”

“We lived it once,” said Koko.

“We’d rather not relive it,” added Lulu.

Grampa nodded. “Yes. I have my own dark memories I’d rather keep locked up. You be careful with yours. They can eat you, by and by.”


	2. Chapter 2

Autumn lingered all the way to the mountainside terraces of Sellsnow Farms, where a house that was part mansion, and mostly tree, jutted out of the mountainside and looked so much like a sleeping giant. Pumpkins and gourds were being harvested in anticipation of the winter, and some workers were clearing the vines to put peculiar platforms on the stripped earth.

It had been a half-month’s journey to reach here from Frankersbear. And it was a two hour ride to the nearest town. Which, if Koko read it correctly, was called Sheepsford. It was a sleepy little town far from the hustle and bustle of any kind of city.

They wouldn't even know what hit it.

“What are those weird frames for?” Lulu asked.

“The family business. We get a lot of snow -calm down now- so we pack it tight into ice and sell it off to warehouses that sell it to people in the summer. Keeps things cool when you don't trust magic.”

“Snow,” said Koko with the same tone that one might say 'plague’. His sister held him tightly, both for and giving comfort.

“You can't tell me that you're scared of _ snow, _ ” groused the old Elf.

“We’ve been on the road and homeless for almost half a century,” said Lulu.

“You’d be an idiot to  _ not _ be scared of snow. It can kill you slowly.”

“And it eats fingers and toes,” added Lulu. “We’re lucky to have all of ours, did you know that?”

“So many ways to die in the cold,” murmured Koko. “We’ve seen it happen. Too many times.”

Grampa was staring at them. “Sorry, my loves. I… forgot.” he turned the horse to a path through a gate. “You won't have to work out in it until you're settled, anyway. The others will understand that you’ve both been through alot.”

“How did this place get ignored by the wars? It's huge,” said Koko.

“Seasonal farming,” Grampa said.” We graze the fields in spring. Plant gourds in summer, and harvest those in Autumn. And winter? All snow. We look like a part of nature. And it helps to be too far up the mountain side to bother raiding.”

The cart turned away from the tree mansion and into an underground structure that was equal parts stable and storage and manufactory.

“And it's bigger than you think it is.”

The twins had heard people refer to Elves as rabbits, hares, or bunnies. And that was because Elves literally went underground to hide from their enemies. This was the largest Elf burrow they had ever seen. Honed by generations. Made to keep entire families safe. Designed to hide them all from the ravages of war. Or the attacks of the xenophobic. There were even deep storerooms with bottles upon bottles of preserves. And there was even someone re-ordering them, making sure the oldest would be used first. Carrying that which was almost due to spoil up to where the hungry could eat.

Koko’s belly rumbled in anticipation. “Please tell me you’ll let us cook? When we want to? They didn’t let us cook back there and then we  _ had _ to. I wanna have fun with it again…”

Lulu murmured agreement. “The good stuff. The nice stuff...” she cooed. “And we get to actually  _ eat _ some.”

“You don’t have to go to work, right away,” insisted Grampa. “You’ve come a long way and you don’t have much to your name. You need to rest. Revive.  _ Settle. _ ” He let some farm staff unpack the cart, and lead the twins through labyrinthine turns to a small cabinet that magically rose through some floors. “You’re heirs to Sellsnow Farms, so the two of you will get the Dovecote Suites. We’d have as many as six in there, in the glory days. It’ll be nice to have children back here.”

They exited the cabinet and went through more twists and turns. There was never a straight line in the entire place. And though there was always a breeze, it wasn’t unpleasant. Generations of Elves had shaped both tree and burrow to breathe without being unpleasant. And therefore so could any staying within the magic-shaped walls.

They emerged into the sunlight and onto a bridge made out of a giant branch. Quite a long way up from the farm below. There were branches that made a roof for the walkway, well-hidden under other, more natural branches that would make the whole thing look like there was no such bridge there. No matter how the seasons turned.

It was very clever. There were even thick, woolen hangings, rolled up under the ceiling and tied away during the last flush of Autumn. Tied up and ready to protect the householders from any kind of chill.

The Dovecote Suites were another flight up and had a spectacular view of the entire farm. Anyone living there could look out of the charmed glass and see any kind of threatening approach. There were three bedrooms, and the twins went for the one with the hearth and the biggest bed. Something they could share.

It was still an Elven sleep nook. As cosy and secure as any burrow the twins had ever dug or taken over from a badger. Closed in at the entrance, but open enough inside to allow for meditation-induced levitation. Even  _ with _ every pillow and comforter and quilt that they could add into it. Like the cavernous burrow in the side of the mountain, every enclosed space was made to breathe without gathering or losing too much heat.

Grampa settled on a nearby chair and watched as they nested in. “It’s been a long time since you had a proper nook, hm?” He sighed. “I bet you wonder why all four went there.”

“You mean our mother, aunt and uncles?” said Koko.

“We don’t say the names of the dead,” said Grampa. “Ill fortune will follow.”

“But you’re not scared of our witch eyes,” said Lulu. “Do you just  _ pick _ which superstitions you follow?”

Grampa Tostaada got up from his seat and shuffled into one of the neighbouring bedrooms. He shuffled back with a portrait. “Here’s why I never feared witch eyes.”

Two young Elves in smart suits stood side by side. One had Grampa’s blue eyes, but the other… almost completely identical… had a brown right eye.

Koko was out of the nook in a second, getting right up in there and staring at the picture. Their grand-uncle had a challenging smile. Daring anyone to do anything about his eyes. “Where’s your brother, Grampa?”

Lulu also eased out of the nook. “I guess twins gallop in the family. What’s his name? What do we call him?”

“This is your Grunkle Taako. Last I heard of him, he was running some… fortune-telling detective agency bunkum on the coast near Clearwater Cove. He sends letters and news clippings now and again. Don’t  _ think _ he gave you any cousins or second cousins, however removed they might be.” He put the portrait up on their wall by their nook. “As for the family  _ you _ knew… It’s a sad tale.”

“Please tell it to us?” begged Koko.


	3. Chapter 3

Their father was… not a nice Elf. He was one of the outcasts who were numb to magic. Unresponsive. Immune, if you wanted to think of it that way. He couldn’t rely on healing potions or clerics or any kind of magic to mend his hurts. So he resented every magic-user, large or small, and held fast to every superstition in the book.

He could not afford bad luck.

Any injury had to be treated with first aid. Guarded against infection. And they all took longer to heal. Extended Rest did little to help him recover, or he had the world’s shittiest hit dice.

But the fool broke his leg real bad one winter and he had to hole up with the family. They had him on a Human bed in a guest suite and their mother doted on him. Their aunt was a lot more skeptical about him, but he had their mother wrapped around his little finger.

He spoke eloquently about this little Elf village in the middle of nowhere. Quiet. The wars had never touched it in three hundred years. And it was a great place to raise children. They could have a tree-grown house all to themselves until baby made three.

Four, their mother corrected. Twins happened more often than not in the Sellsnow line.

None could tell their mother what to do. So their Aunt moved out with her. Because she couldn’t bear to see her sister leave forever. And their uncles followed in case their father was the cad they measured him up to be.

All four of them started a new life in that little village. And for a few years, everything was happy.

And then the twins were born. Bald as an egg, the both of them. And born holding hands, which was allegedly portentous of some kind of good fortune. According to superstition, it meant that the family would never be sundered.

_ “Well  _ that’s _ a load of horseshit,” the twins chorused. _

The troubles started when the babies’ hair started to grow long enough to have a visible colour. Gold as a coin. And their eyes changed from their infants’ grey to the ambers and greens they knew today. Their father started asking about spells to fix the babies’ eyes. Begging the local cleric to remove the curse.

And -increasingly- accusing their mother of infidelity.

It didn’t help that Lulu and Koko came into their magical abilities early and strong. A mage-mute like their father and a rather more ordinarily-gifted Elf like their mother should have had slightly inept-at-magic children. But these twins were the opposite. They were powerful.

So… in their father’s mind, they had to be demons.

No holy charm would hurt them, and the house filled with charms against evil. Not that any of them did anything to protect two witch-eyed infants against the superstitions of an isolated village in the middle of nowhere. There was more than one close call where someone set their dog on the babies or someone threw something at them.

Luck, happenstance, and instinct saved them.

And then their aunt and uncles worked at it too. The uncle who made wands created special charms that would protect the innocent from harm. And the infant Lulu and Koko were never without at least one pair of watchful eyes.

And when their father left… the Sellsnows stuck together. Taking turns to watch over the young twins. Trying to give them as much of a childhood as they could afford.


	4. Chapter 4

Koko got out his reading glasses and paged through  _ Uncle Jon’s Elven Bathroom Reader. _ There had been a useful page about witch eyes. There had to be a useful page about twins. But no. All there was was a twee story about the Sun Twins who raced each other across the sky to steal kisses from the Lady Moon.

Those pages were only useful for the recipes he’d jotted down in there. And even then, he’d memorised most of the ones there.

He shut the book again with a sigh. So much for that. Their grandfather, watching this, had only one raised eyebrow at this performance.

“It sometimes has useful stuff in there,” Koko said.

“We have a library, but… what’s… why…” he gestured circles around his own eyes. “You don’t need witch-eye glasses here.”

Lulu sighed, “Language specific dyslexia.” She got out her own glasses. “We can’t read Elven without it.”

“Those glasses are about the only good thing to come outta… that place,” muttered Koko.

“Those glasses and you two kids,” said Grampa. “You can get comfy, today. Someone will send a dinner up by the dumbwaiter.”

“Screw that,” said Lulu. “I’m exploring.”

Grampa laughed at that. “Then ask someone if you get lost. Dinner’s after sunset. And tomorrow… we’ll need all hands for the harvest processing. A good half goes into preserves. The other half goes into the harvest feast.”

Koko brightened instantly. “I’m great at feasts… just. We’re part of it too, right?”

Grampa chuckled. “Of course, you’re guests of honour. Just be sure you get a lot of rest, tonight. Plenty to do tomorrow.” He took their leave, shuffling away for other business.

They did find the library, but it was a disorganised chaos where hundreds of generations had put their favourites in their preferred corners of the huge space. The reference books were all shoved into a darker area where you would have to bring a lantern or a magical light to even read the titles.

“Fuck me,” murmured Lulu.

“I think this place was last organised three millennia ago,” agreed Koko.

“Day after the feast,” decided Lulu. “We go through this place like fucking salts.”

“And tomorrow, we cook the fucking feast.”

“And that night, we  _ eat _ it.”

After they found the library, they followed their noses to the kitchen. It was relatively plain fare. Stewed or fried. Common fare. The twins got to it all with herbs and re-balancing some proportions. Generally making it… nicer.

And helped bring it out and serve for the table, where Lulu sat to the right of their grandfather, because she  _ was _ the eldest by forty-five minutes and technically a day. Koko sat to his left, and tried not to feel so very out of sorts at the fact that they couldn’t comfortably swap anything they had. Nor share anything that was there.

Grampa must have sensed it. He petted Koko’s curls and said, “I’m sorry to come between you two, but this is a formal introduction. Hereafter, you can sit together as you please.” He used his spoon to sound his goblet like a bell. “My people… my people…”

An Elf at the other end of the huge, winding table yelled, “Shaddup!”

Conversations stilled. Laughter bubbled away. Two by two, shining Elven eyes turned towards the venerable old man.

“Today,” Grampa Tostaada announced, “is a day for celebration. The family that once was lost is found anew. My daughter had a pair of twins, Lulu and Koko, who I thought perished in the raids almost fifty long years ago. Thanks to the portraits, and the press… and Sukun’s sharper eyes,” there was a wave of laughter through the ranks, “I was able to find them. The tests have been done. These two  _ are _ my youngest daughter’s children. They were announced as boys. And obviously, we were wrong about that…” another laugh. “By blood and by line, I hereby recognise them as heirs to the Sellsnow Estate. Please, all of you, welcome my grandchildren, Lulu and Koko… who have been through much.”

Grampa raised his goblet. There was a sound as two, perhaps three hundred at the table raised theirs. Koko reached for his and Lulu reached for hers. Each stopped by a kind hand. And a whisper of, “Just sit there and smile.”

“To family, re-united. Welcome. You will always have a home, here.”

Two hundred, maybe three hundred voices said, “You will always have a home, here.” 

Koko didn’t know how to feel about it. Fifty years without a home. Always running. Always hiding. And longer ago than that, just being swapped around between relatives at the turn of the seasons. Having a place where he could belong? For an entire year?

It almost seemed unnatural.

He reached out for Lulu, and found Grampa Tostaada’s hand. Cool to the touch, but reassuring all the same. Especially since he put Lulu’s hand in his and got out of their way.

That was the moment when Koko knew that Grampa Tostaada was a good man. Not only did he keep being kind to them, but he also had an air of kindness about Lulu’s transition. And he never wanted to keep them apart for any longer than necessary.

This might not be ‘home’ yet, but Koko began to relax a little bit about staying here.


	5. Chapter 5

The best things in the world were a safe and warm place to sleep, a full belly, and her brother readily at her side. Lulu burrowed into the bedding and snuggled Koko into her left side. Where he had belonged since they were born.

Koko, already half asleep, murmured a happy mumble as his fingers flexed into her bedclothes.

Changing clothes for bed. That was a new one on them.

Koko started doing something they hadn’t done since they were small, and they still had their family in Tre Llew-Ddion. He was purring. It was a low, stuttery rumble, but it was there.

Lulu started to smile at that, and realised that she was purring too. Soft and stuttering, but picking up where Koko left off. This was good. It felt good. It felt…  _ right. _

She relaxed, gripping comfortably on to her brother. Ignoring the pointy bits because there was enough softness all around them to minimise their impact. It should have been easy to sleep. And she did fall into the comforting darkness of slumber.

But Koko kept waking up. Two hours, maximum, and he would snap into consciousness for no reason. His purr stopped cold and his heart racing.

Lulu would whisper, “We’re not there anymore. You’re safe.”

And he would sigh and flop down and the purr would start up again. And she would slide back into slumber once more.

But Koko would have a nightmare. Start whimpering in his sleep. Talking in a nonsensical jumble, and Lulu would have to wake him up. Tell him he was safe. Tell him she was right here, because in his dreams, he’d lost her and couldn’t find her.

After three rounds of nightmares and sudden awakenings, Lulu whispered, “Let’s meditate instead. I’ll watch the door for you.”

He didn’t purr during meditation, but that relaxed and even breathing was a balm on Lulu’s soul that made her purr for the both of them. Koko was under for two hours, and seemed to realise it when he came back down.

“...hachi machi. Sorry, sis.”

“No. You needed it. My turn?”

“F’r sure.” He swapped with her and braced her back with his.

She went under. It was easy with her brother at her back. As her body floated, she examined the troubles of their hearts and minds.

Citron.

The Bitch Queen of Saint Vingo’s was on the run and avoiding authority. Would justice find her? Or would the two thousand souls she tortured, and the thousands more she ruined, be forever without knowledge of what happened to her?

Lulu considered the best option. Citron, filthy in a ditch. Dividing her time between the temporary ease of ‘lion and begging for coppers. Always trying to be one step ahead of the law.

No. Citron. Forced into a workhouse. Spending her hours in silent, back-breaking, pointless labor for a bowl of thin gruel and a mattress made of horse dung and bed bugs.

No. Citron. Made to live through what she put all those young Elves through. Lifetime after ruined lifetime. Actually eating the Otyugh vomit of level one.

No. Citron forced to work off the debt created by actually rehabilitating every last Elf who suffered in Saint Vingo’s. Her rich accomplices held accountable, too.

No.

A fair trial and a public hanging. An exposure of the alleged charity that went on inside those horrible stone walls. The story told. Understanding accomplished. And those who were there who’d survived it, given as much sympathy as possible.

Lulu breathed out the lingering badness. Let the light of hope fill her anew. They had a new place to be. A new family. A new chance. New opportunities for stability. And possibly a new load of work convincing Koko that this was a change that was going to stick.

Koko moved, behind her, and she snapped into awareness, reaching for the hazel stick she used as her wand. Her brother was poised to strike near the entrance to their nook, his own wand at the ready.

“Hello,”  cooed a gentle voice. “I’m Latka. Your grandfather sent me up to see if you were ready for today. Did you get enough rest?”

Koko looked back to Lulu, his odd eyes glowing in the dark. Lulu nodded for him. “Yeah, sure,” he said, tucking the wand under his arm as he left the nook. “What’s happening? I mean… for right now.”

“I’m here to help. We’ve found some work clothes that should fit. They’re… rugged and durable. Just what’s needed for today.” Latka pulled twin overalls out of their bag of holding, and some clumpy farm boots. The shirts were plain and long-sleeved, and the hats… were made to shade the sun, and not to cause a stir on the fashion catwalk.

Not that either of them were in a position to be that fussy. Frankly, they were happy to have new underwear. The rest of it was a bonus.

Dressed, they rushed down to the kitchen to improve the simple breakfast already half-prepared there. Spices and dried fruit helped along the porridge. More so with the pancakes and waffles. Lulu made a spicy scramble that could bring tears to the eyes in more ways than one.

From there, it was out into the fields. Out of their depth and following the lead of all the others who knew what they were doing. Even their grandfather was gathering up gourds. But it wasn’t just gourds. There were zucchini, small squash, marigolds, tomatoes, and beans in abundance. All of which, the twins had to learn how to harvest.

After so long at foraging for wild produce, it was something of a shock to have their hands on the fat, domesticated fruiting bodies. They laughed at the bounty coming in from the fields. And they felt rich to be rolling pumpkins the size of barrels towards the carts that were headed to the tree castle.

It was more food than they could have dreamed of, mere months ago. Wealth beyond their wildest dreams. Bounty in excess of any of their expectations.

This time, they work willingly. They do their best to follow instructions, and the occasional, “Yes, honoured elder,” spills from their lips  _ without _ an associated rush of bile. They work in the fields, and in the kitchen. Making a feast. Making preserves. Laughing together and with the people their Grandfather shares his home with.

And the feast that night is one they share. Good food in good company. Cider and pie and definitely too much to eat. Lulu spent every moment she could with her brother’s arm in hers. Properly on her left hand side. They even fell into old, old habits. Sharing their drinks. Sharing their food had always been a constant, but there was no risk of running out. And, finally, dozing against each other’s shoulders as the evening wore into night.

The first snow brought them nightmares.


	6. Chapter 6

Koko opened his eyes, but there was absolute darkness. A lack of sensation. He was floating in the Quiet Room. He fell to the floor as the lights and the world resumed. And there she was. Citron.

He was weak. Too weak to move away from her. Too weak to stop her as she cradled him with surprising tenderness.

“There now,” she cooed. “No need to cry, my son…” And she opened up her top and exposed her breast. “Mama’s here. Drink.”

_ No. No wait. She never did that… _

The foul broth of Level One filled his mouth. Choked him. He struggled to push her away.

“Koko… Koko, ssh…”

Fingers on the back of his neck. A different scent than Citron’s overpowering petunia perfume.

“Ssh-ssh-ssh. It’s all right. I’m here.”

He opened his eyes, not to absolute darkness, but to the varying shades of grey that meant it was night. The ceiling was close. The bed was soft…

And his sister was warm.

“I’m right here, Koko. Ssh-ssh…”

And his eyes were wet. “I was back there. I was in the Quiet Room and she came for me and--”

Lulu’s lips on his brow. “We’re safe, now. We’re safe. We’re at Grampa’s place. It’s okay. We got out.”

“Did we?” he asked. “Are you sure? She’d do illusions on us. She’d make us think we were in different places. She made me think someone else was you…”

“[None of them know  _ Us, _ do they?]”

And now he had the ability to breathe.  _ Now _ he could say it was just a dream. Now he could cling to his sister and steady his breathing and  _ sleep. _ Because he knew he was safe.

He opened his eyes to a badger burrow where he and his sister were hiding from some people who were after their ears. Lulu had her hand over his mouth… but she hadn’t had the magic spell done, and was almost his exact copy. She had a haze about her eyes that screamed of ‘lion. The smell of the smoke in her hair. And a look that said that her last hit of fluff was wearing off and she would soon start feeling the pain of her body being  _ wrong _ once more…

_ No. No! _

And manicured nails reached into their burrow. A perfect hand belonging to a perfect monster of an Elf.

_ NO! _

He reached for his wand. Aimed it right at her head.

“Koko, there’s nobody there.”

And he was aiming his wand at a perfectly harmless dresser. “She was here. She was  _ here. _ She was right here.”

Lulu’s fingers were warm at the nape of his neck. “Nobody can find her,” she said. “Remember? Grampa read the news to us. About the hunt for… those people. And  _ her. _ They can’t find her. And Grampa would never let her come here.”

He could sleep with her fingers working his neck. With his ear against her heartbeat. With his arms and legs wrapped tight around her. But all the same, there were bruises on her, the next morning.

His fault.

He moved around when he slept. When he dreamed. He struggled and kicked and shouted at his dreams, now. Because  _ that place _ had left scars in his mind.

He catalogued every mark. Apologised for them profusely. Took her to the household Cleric and confessed. Koko expected his ears to be notched for it. To be whipped. To be  _ sent away. _ To be shut away or isolated or chained up like an animal.

But what he got was a sack made of light, sturdy fabric with a lace-up closure. To keep him from harming himself or others when he dreamed. And a diagnosis.

Night terrors.

Lulu’s bruises healed with a word, but Koko’s… issues… would be a longer and harder effort to mend. Cleric Borscht recommended that Lulu guide Koko’s meditation, and that they not indulge in sleep for a minimum of a month.

But for that day… he was scatterbrained. Absent-minded. Disoriented. And there were moments - more than moments - where he felt that he was watching his life unfold from very far away. Like he was sitting in a darkened room and seeing everything happen on a magical scroll.

Or moments when he felt like he was floating. Or that he was about to fall.

Lulu was his anchor. She’d touch him, hold him, or even give his ear a kind little flick, and startle him back to reality. Which was, in this case, rearranging all the books in the Estate Library.

His rose quartz glasses helped.  _ She _ had been very strict about when and how he was allowed to wear them. Wearing them full time meant that he was free of  _ that place _ and therefore had nothing to fear.

But he still couldn’t focus a mage hand for more than a few minutes at most. And even then, it was misshapen or lumpy. It was a rough day.

Grampa Tostaada noticed. He ordered the two of them to follow him to a very large resting nook. “Back in the old days, entire families would nest up in one nook,” he said. “Grandparents, cousins, mothers, fathers, and children. And one or more would always watch over the rest. I hardly need to rest, any more. An hour here. A cat-nap there. You young ones need a real rest. And I… will watch over you while you do it.”

Koko wept apologies into the old man’s shoulder as he wrapped Grampa Tostaada up in a hug.

The old man kissed his brow and his cheek and said, “Get in there. Get rested. Your safety is worth my life to me.”

And that certainly helped immensely.

Lulu sat facing him. Her hands holding his. “Remember when we used to do it this way?”

A sweet ache in his heart. The memory of Mother’s voice and face. “Mother would help us. Talk us through it.”

“Now it’s my turn to guide you through it.” She pressed his forehead with hers. “Close your eyes. Feel your breath deepen. Feel your body lighten. Feel… the relaxation.”

He did that. The warm dark of his eyelids and the sensation of her hands kept him from flashbacks of the Quiet Room.

“Feel… the things that have gone wrong,” she said. “Let them come out. One by one. What is your fear?”

It was far away, but he could still name it. “ _ She _ could find us. Take us away.”

“Fear is a puzzle. You can solve it. How do you solve fear?”

“Confront it.” Koko could see it, now. Citron coming for him. Taking him. Tearing him away… but he knew he could cast magic in a time of desperate need, now. “If she does, I can fight.”

“We can fight,” she said. “We know how. We can learn more. Breathe. Breathe out the fear. Breathe in the courage. What is the nightmare?”

“She still has us.”

Lulu muttered, “...oof…” and cleared her throat. “Nightmares are riddles. You can find the truths wrapped within them. What is the truth?”

And he snapped out of it. Fell to the soft bedding. Wept. “I don’t know. I don’t know any more.”

Lulu wrapped him up. Whispered in his ear, “The truth is, I’m here. The truth is, we’re alive. The truth is, we survived her.”


	7. Chapter 7

Praying to the gods was like wishing on a monkey’s paw. Tostaada knew this, even fifty years ago when he heard what had happened to his sons and daughters. But nevertheless, he had prayed.

_ Not my grandchildren. Let those innocents live. Please. _ He had prayed those words thousands of times. But there was no news of them. No news of Lulu or Koko or both. And he had prayed for news. He had prayed for these children to come back to him.

He should have added,  _ Whole and unharmed. _

He heard every word they whispered to each other, in the safety of that nook. He read every word that they had written about Saint Vingo’s, both from before and after the fire. He read about the sort of people who took in Vingo’s orphans, and what they did with those poor scraps of life.

The gods answered Tostaada’s prayers. Oh yes. The children were spared death by the raiders… and wandered between caravans, between places they could stay. Between street corners and dragon dens, between hucksters and shysters and slop houses. Between verminous beds where they rented out their bodies. Between starving and prison cells.

And they had come to him, too. As broken people. Shattered inside their heads. Permanently marred by the touch of a woman who swore she was helping them. Unable to meditate for long. Unable to even sleep for long. Wracked with nightmares. Stricken by night terrors. Plagued by the memory of those stone walls.

_ If only… _

If only he’d insisted on convincing his children to stay. If only he had intervened earlier. If only he had convinced them all to come back. If only he had paid for the trip. If only he’d stayed in touch.

Tostaada sighed as Koko cried in Lulu’s embrace. If only they were little, and all he had to do was hold them and dandle them on his knees... But hindsight was always like the eagle’s vision. You could always see further when you were looking back.

He could give them space. He could give them closeness. He could not fathom which of the two they wanted most. He could not help them feel safe. That was an exercise with a great deal of time as its element.

They were such good children. They could have soaked in laziness. They could have maxed out their indolence. They could have ransacked the castle and warren for anything valuable and ran. But they understood that they had a place in running the farm, and worked to that end. Sure, they were… enthusiastic… about their food. They ate like they expected a famine come the morning sun. And after fifty years of scraping for their next meal, who could blame them?

He would certainly not blame them.

“We survived,” Koko murmured as he meditated anew. “We are together. We have family. We have a place.” It was a shaky effort. Tostaada could hear some trembling in those breaths. “She is far away and can’t hurt us.”

“She is far away and can’t hurt us,” echoed Lulu. More for herself than for Koko.

A repeated chorus of, “She is far away and can’t hurt us,” helped them both go under and lift off. At peace, for however long they could grasp it. Tostaada had only read accounts of the things that happened to street orphans in Saint Vingo’s, but hearing the edges of it from his young darlings was traumatic enough.

They’d lived it. And they were in the process of healing from their experiences. Hearing little edges of their wounds like this… hurt him.

He joined their chant. “She is far away, and cannot hurt us.” But he mentally added,  _ anymore. _

If he crossed paths with that harridan, she would find out exactly how painful top-level farmer’s spells could be. He would burn all of his spell slots on hurting her to within an inch of her life. And it wouldn’t begin to pay for the evil she had done to all those young Elves all over the realm.

The twins finished their rest, and wrapped themselves around him in thanks. Feeling their gratitude was more reward than he expected, in all honesty. They had every reason to be distrustful, hateful, and suspicious. And yet, here they were. Trusting, and comfortable enough with him guarding them to not only rest, but to gently and softly purr as they held him.

He held them both close and purred in return. Let them, eventually, get back to their work in the library.

But not before he told them, “You’re not alone, anymore, my darlings. You can ask me to watch over you at any time at all.”


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hail and well met, dear readers. I want to thank you for sticking with me so far. I obviously had too much faith in my writing speed and not enough actual writing time to get this done before we both got here.
> 
> Do not fret. I am not abandoning this story. I'm just taking a hiatus away from posting chapters until I have something finished.
> 
> I have four stories including this one on my back-burner, a novel in progress [google C. M. Weller to find out what else I'm up to] as well as that pesky detail called "real life" that takes my time up. I am going to try and devote my attention to one fic at a time. And maybe actually finish one of them before devoting my limited brainpower to yet another shiny plotbunny.
> 
> I figure that's going to last a maximum of six months, so keep an eye out on my Tumblr [@internutter] and my works page to see how soon that resolution leaves my control. And yes, you may rag me for it when it happens. I need encouragement to keep to my guns.
> 
> Thanks again for staying with me. Hope to be posting again soon.

Inside the tree manor was warm, for the most part. Comfortable. The thick felt curtains of the branch walkways kept the cold air out. That didn’t stop either Koko or Lulu from wrapping themselves in whatever warm clothing they could get their overeager hands on. And since Sellsnow Farms had absolute archives of clothing from generations upon generations of Sellsnows, there was a lot to choose from. All kept strictly on the basis that someone, somewhen, would find them useful.

Humans and Dwarfs used earmuffs in winter’s chill. Elves and other point-eared races used ear socks. And though the twins valiantly attempted to find such a thing, there were no pairs of ear socks that were at all stylish and non-dorky. Lulu and Koko both eventually settled on pairs that they found the most tolerable, and let the rest of their winter ensembles clash or match without much of a care.

Other workers of the Sellsnow Farms would occasionally give them advice on how to dress. Not that it truly mattered. Elves could - and frequently did - dress like they fell backwards through a rejected clothing bin and still ended up looking fabulous. But even then, these two Elves chose warmth over style.

Which made them easy to spot amongst the more stylish workers in Sellsnow Farms. Lumpy, huge coats and cloaks. Multiple layers of leggings and pants. Huge boots that covered multiple layers of socks and stockings. Scarves, gloves, mittens. The twins attempted to wear several people’s entire winter wardrobes at once. Especially for what they called Elf Parade.

For centuries, the best way for Sellsnows to pack the snow they sold into blocks of ice was by tramping down the fresh snowfall. And since it was too cold for anyone to be out for too long, it became a line of residents and employees, the leaders with snowshoes, weaving a winding path between the platforms, packing the snow with their feet. All the way across all the platforms and then back into the mansion for hot drinks and huddling under blankets and praying that it wouldn’t snow again until they thawed.

Tostaada did try to give Lulu and Koko advice on their wardrobe, but the best he could say was that they were in there somewhere. He knew it for certain because Koko was breathing hard, and they hadn’t even stepped out into the snow. Lulu was on his right, so Tostaada took up a guarding position on his left.

“There, now, loves. It’s just a little walk. Nothing to panic about. And there’s your choice of hot tea or hot chocolate when it’s done. And griddle cakes, of course.” He gave them a wink. “By the time we’re back inside, there might even be some  _ mulled wine, _ eh? The good stuff.”

“Snow…” whimpered Koko.

“Everyone has to do this, my love. I’m with you every step of the way. You’ll see. It’s all safe. Our family’s been doing this for generations. One foot, then the next foot. Sooner walked, sooner warmed.”

He kept up the chatter and amiable conversation for all of the winding path to pack snow as his family had packed snow for centuries. Gods. He’d been doing this for six hundred and fifty years, give or take. It was a part of his life as much as air.

“It’s just a few minutes,” Lulu was saying. “We’re not getting  _ really _ cold. And the house is all warm and waiting for us.”

“...roast tubers,” Koko whispered as he kept step with everyone else in the queue. “Ginger apples. Mulled wine. Hot tea. Griddle cakes and honey…”

“And whole roast pig for dinner,” added Tostaada. “Stuffed with apples, onions and potatoes.” These kids motivated themselves with food, and they knew the good stuff, too.

“Spiced?”

“Of course spiced. We’re farmers, not barbarians.” Tostaada laughed and told them the family recipe as they trod down the snow. Delighted in the glimpses of happiness coming out via Koko’s eyes.

By the time the Elf Parade was back indoors, Koko had misplaced his fear of the snow. But that didn’t stop him and Lulu making a beeline for the nearest cuddle cote with hot chocolate and griddle cakes and a blanket that had been in a warming oven.

Tostaada and a couple of his staff conspired to pick them out a few more co-ordinated items, taking away the snow-sprinkled armour from the parade and bribing the twins with mulled wine in order to get them looking a lot better.

And they still ate like they expected to be starving, tomorrow.

They would settle down. Tostaada had to believe that. They  _ would _ settle down. Their fears would ease away and they would begin to become normal Elves. They might never be farmers, but they would settle down. Sooner or later, they would call somewhere  _ home. _

Some of the farm’s cats, recognising Lulu and Koko as fellow lovers of ample warmth and food scraps, moved into the cote with the twins and started purring. They reflexively purred in return. Which helped them relax into an attitude of lazy satisfaction.

Tostaada didn’t mind that they leaned on each other first. They had had fifty years of each other being the only people they could rely on. Depending on anyone else was no longer in their reflexes. So he sat at the edge of their cote and bothered the occasional cat whilst he handed these lost children food or kept an eye or a hand on one or the other. Gentle and constant reminders that they had someone who cared for them now.

As they fell into a drowse, Tostaada started talking business with all the workers of Sellsnow Farms. Winter was the best time for learning, and therefore the best chance to catch Lulu and Koko up on the essentials of Elven education. Lore and legends. History. Mathematics and logistics. There was no way in heaven or hell that he would get either of them to step outside for more than the Elf Parade, so archery lessons would have to happen in one of the warren’s empty areas.

Kalops was the one who suggested they repurpose the old, grand dining hall for such a thing. It spent most of its time as practice for cobweb removing spells, or as a hunting ground for the cats. It would be no bother to set targets at one end and Elves with bows at the other. But that would happen after Candlenights. And he could definitely teach them how to ride a stag or an elk in the stables and--

Oh shit.

_ Candlenights. _

They were going to meet his brother Taako and they were not prepared.

They were  _ not _ prepared.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back! And I finished this fucker of a story. Yay.
> 
> Same as before, a chapter a day until I reach the end. And then I vanish whilst I work on some other cool ideas. Thanks everyone for your patience and I hope you enjoy my not-so-little tale.

According to Koko, his Grunkle arrived as if by magic. The dirigible appeared overnight, and conspired to look like a gathering cloud of mist off the mountain when it docked with the tree-mansion.

And further, Grunkle Taako magically produced  _ family. _

He had four sons, all dark-haired. Grunkle Taako’s hair was all silver and almost shone. Just like Grampa Tostaada’s. Two sets of twin sons, three hundred years apart, and startling at Lulu and Koko’s witch eyes and golden hair.

Grunkle Taako said, “Aaah. That explains it,” in lieu of a greeting.

And while Koko was still trying to unriddle that, four Elf women came through the gantry, each with a young set of twins of their own. One had two sets, and the second set were babies. All of the younger twins were flaxen-haired, but nowhere near as gold as Lulu and Koko’s were.

“Explains what?” said Koko.

Grunkle Taako smiled. “You two, my dears, have won something of a genetic lottery. The first-born twins of eight generations of twins. You’re meant to be the start of a new era in magics. According to the lore.” His gnarled old fingers plucked at a lock of Lulu’s golden hair. “And this is proof. You’re both very special.”

“Horseshit,” said Lulu. “We’re street trash. Lucky to even  _ have _ a family.’

Grunkle Taako laughed. “I’m sure people kept telling you that. Just wait. By the time Candlenights and I’m done with you, you’ll both be dangerous wizard prodigies.”

“Grampa Tostaada wants to teach us all about running the farm,” said Koko. “He swears some of it can be... fun.” He didn’t want to show any disloyalty to Grampa. “Or useful.”

Grunkle Taako rolled his mismatched eyes. “And I’m sure he thinks it is. Kid. You’re going to blaze your own path and be fucking magnificent while you’re at it. Best that you go into  _ that _ knowing as much as you can from as many sources as you can.” Those eyes gleamed. “Meanwhile… has your dear Grampa revealed his little secret? Our little secret.”

Koko was the one to see it. “Your brown eye changed colour…”

Which earned him a big grin from his Grunkle. “That is literally only half of it.” He cackled at a joke only he could understand. “Brother dear. You didn’t show your lovely grandchildren your… special trick?”

Grampa Tostaada had been hiding from notice, which was difficult considering the sudden abundance of identical twins. For every one, there was the match, and the eye just wanted to find the pair. 

Lulu held Koko’s hand as she asked, “What special trick, Grampa?”

He looked more ashamed than proud. “Ah, my dears… There’s so much I haven’t told you.”

“Elven twins have special magic,” Grunkle Taako said. “Some twins change their hair.” And one of a pair of twins darkened his hair on cue. “Some can shape it.” A different one of a different pair made his hair curl. “And some,” a level glare at Grampa Tostaada, “have changeable eyes. The firstborn always has control, and the other,” Grunkle Taako gestured at himself, “doesn’t.”

Grampa Tostaada sighed. “Your grampa is a big, fat coward.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, and suddenly, one blue eye was now a deep brown. The very mirror of his brother’s. “The instant I figured out I could do this, I…” he hung his head. “I sort of stayed that way.”

“Leaving some of us to go hang,” added Grunkle Taako. “Well. Some of the time.”

Grampa’s odd eyes wouldn’t look at his brother. “More often than I wanted to… and you know it.”

Two elderly brothers stared off like cats. The air filled with an incipient fight in the same way the air before a storm filled with a certain heaviness. The twins with the babies looked very concerned.

Lulu and Koko clung to each other. Were they about to watch their closest surviving family fight to the death?

And then they both laughed and embraced.

“Oh, come here, you old fraud.”

“Get over here, you old fool.”

Laughter and back-clapping. “I hope you laid in extra spring wine, Taada, I’m going to drink you dry.”

“Not before I rob the rings off your fingers, Taaka. I’m still best at cards.”

Lulu and Koko burst out laughing with relief. “They’re like us! They’re like  _ us! _ ” They cheered. And then ran to embrace their Grunkle.

“Gods, I have enough trouble with my  _ own _ damn spawn tripping me up. Get off!” But he still petted their heads and patted their backs and returned the hugs. “Come on. Meet the tribe.”

There were too many names to keep track of. Koko had never really bothered with learning anyone’s name. People never wanted them around long enough to bother, for the most part.

Salbutes and Fritaada were the older of their Grunkle’s twins. Cocido and Lengua were the younger ones. And they were each married to Kasha, Leverpalt, Sylta and Pirog and possibly in that order. Koko wasn’t sure if the kids were second cousins, third cousins, or what level of removal they were. It was just easier to call anyone under one hundred ‘cousin’ and figure it out later.

Too many eke names, too. Toto, Molo, Goro, Coco, Sasa, Bili and Naca were all a decade or three younger than Lulu and Koko. About all Koko could keep straight was that Trip and Tort were the babies.

Lulu wasn’t exactly having a better time of it either.

Mem and Coco - the latter of the two was quickly nicknamed, ‘younger Coco’, were the closest to Lulu and Koko in age, being a mere fifty-five in comparison to their own sixty-two. They were twins with what the magic books called kaleidoscope eyes. Younger Coco could change hers at will, but Mem’s changed with her emotions.

Koko just revelled in a whole bunch of people who didn’t even flinch a little at his witch eyes. Because they saw a pair like them in their father and grandfather. Who they loved.

Before his Grunkle, Koko could count the number of people who never feared witch eyes on one hand. Now?

Now…

Well, now, he’d lost count.


	10. Chapter 10

That was the first winter that the twins had had fun inside of fifty years. Playing games with their cousins. Learning magic at the hands of their Grunkle. Learning all kinds of tricks at the hands of their Grunkle, who was some minor godling of mischief. Learning how to hustle at pool from their older cousins. Learning archery with their Grampa.

And then came Candlenights. The week-long celebration amongst Elven kind. Lulu and Koko, who only had their Grampa’s farm and its stocks as a resource, threw themselves into the Candlenights feasts. Roasted beasts, gingerbreads, shortbreads, sweetbreads. Every kind of good food they could concoct. They even made ice cream with the help of the farm’s titular snow.

Grampa insisted that their gift was sharing the gift of their skill with others. And his brother agreed. His kids didn’t say anything, but they looked… calculating. They spoke in hushed whispers to each other and had their own secret language.

It was a shock to Koko to learn that other twins had other versions of  _ Us _ that was not  _ their Us. _

And it made him uneasy to do it, but he had to warn Lulu. Which he did like his… older cousins? By whispering to her in _Us._ _“I don’t know about Grunkle’s kids,”_ he whispered. _“They look at this place like it’s all up for auction.”_

Lulu looked around. Found what Koko was talking about in possibly Fritaada. Who was also sizing up her and Koko like he was working out a very complicated plan. That had now become more complicated with the twins’ presence. The younger cousins were unaware of it all. Preferring to play and horse around and just be Elven kids to a degree that Lulu and Koko were completely unfamiliar with.

They had been assumed to be adults since they were twenty. Sometimes, when they were younger than that. Together, they had levels of experience that regular Elves wouldn’t anticipate.

_ “I say we play stupid,” _ murmured Koko.  _ “We’re just dumb little street urchins who don’t know shit from mushrooms. And then listen and learn and wait.” _

Lulu smiled. Playing stupid often got them further than trying to act smart. And after that moment, they deliberately made mistakes. Their High Elven slipped into Gutter Elven terms, here and there. They fluffed the grammar and some of the pronouns. They used the wrong forks or spoons. They ate with their fingers.

And together, they watched their value diminish in their elder’s eyes.


	11. Chapter 11

The kids of the family all hung out in the Dovecote Suites. Up high, where a hypothetical attacker would have to work to get at them, and where they had more than a couple means of quick egress to escape passages. Not that there was a real cause to use any of those.

Mem and Younger Coco huddled up with Lulu and Koko. Learned about their cousins’ nightmares and actively attempted to help Koko meditate. They listened with stunned expressions and open mouth.

For Mem and Younger Coco, it was nothing more than a scary story. They kind of liked it. They had fun with it. Trying to get Lulu and Koko to change their tale around to make it more interesting. Make Citron a Drow, ‘cause Drows are evil. Make her an Orc in disguise who’s farming Elven body parts ‘cause that would be cool. Hey, what if the diced-up meat in the kitchen day was actually  _ dead Elves… _

Koko made it four nights into the Candlenights week before he sighed, “Please stop?”

His cousins were clearly confused. “We were making it cooler,” complained Mem.

“We lived it,” murmured Koko. “It was a nightmare. Specifically,  _ my _ nightmare. Can you even try to imagine what it must have been like for us? Separated…”

“Kept in the dark,” added Lulu. “ _ Worse _ than the dark.”

“Even when we got out of there, we weren’t free. I went… off my dome in there. Trapped inside of four walls that were too high to see anything past it at all.” He shivered, huddled inside the protective arms of his sister. “It was  _ awful. _ I can’t figure out why you’d want it to be cool.”

“You’re boring,” declared Younger Coco.

Anger flared. “You want interesting? How’s this for interesting?” and something inside him snapped. A cloud of blackness flew out of his hand and enveloped Younger Coco’s head. There was no sound, but Younger Coco flailed around in evident panic. Mem tried to comfort his brother, but found his touch repelled. “Hey! Hey stoppit! Stop it! What the hell did you do?”

“He wants it interesting, so I made it interesting…” Koko snarled.

Younger Coco soiled himself.

“Koko, uh-uh,” said Lulu. And that was the only reason he stopped it.

Younger Coco scurried away from him in wet-eyed, wet-pantsed terror. Out of breath. Whimpering.

“That was less than thirty seconds,” said Koko. Level and calm. “Just a  _ sample _ of what it was like in Level Zero. They had me in there for  _ hours. _ Until I went hoarse from screaming. Until I was too weak to fight them. Then they’d strap me into a hard chair so that I couldn’t move, and force me to eat stuff that tasted worse than Otyugh flesh. And, yes, I have eaten that. Is that  _ interesting _ , Coco? Is that  _ fun?” _

Coco took three goes to find his voice. “...if I say ‘yes’, will you never do that again?”

“He got the point, Koko,” soothed Lulu. “Let’s get this mess cleaned up.”

The four of them were whisper quiet in cleaning up the messed bedding and Younger Coco alike, replacing Younger Coco’s sleep shorts and the cushions and sheets that had got soiled. Younger Coco kept his distance, often hiding behind his elder brother Mem from Koko.

Younger Coco would never bother them for another scary story again.


	12. Chapter 12

Grunkle Taako was… unpredictable. He swore up and down that he never knew he had extra niblings via his brother, and therefore didn’t get anything for Lulu and Koko. And yet, for every morning of Elven Candlenights, there was something under the tree for them. All-weather boots of good fit. Travelling cloaks that were proof against any kind of weather. Brand new bags of holding. Actual proper wands that had been made for spellcasters. Pocket guides to all the forage of Faerun. Indomitable cases for their reading glasses. And a Ring of Concealment each.

“You’re both wandering stars, I can tell,” he said. “You’re not likely to put down roots for centuries, yet. Besides. I know my eldest is plotting against my brother and I… and you two…” he sighed. “You’re flies in his ointment.”

He gathered them close and whispered, “I usually give terrible advice, but keep it up. Foil his greedy little plans however you can. You already got him by getting born before his kids were, so that’s one point already. Eighth twins. You’re more powerful and cannier than anyone in this family. Use it, eh?”

Koko read his words right. Lulu and he were a threat to Uncle Sal and his plans. Plans he likely shared with Uncles Frit, Coc, and Gua, since all four of them often glared at Lulu and Koko as if they spied a rat in the flour barrel.

On the other hand, they were also playing stupid for anyone between the ages of two hundred and seven hundred, so that probably messed up those plans just a little. Meanwhile, Koko was reading everything he could wrap his mind around in the mansion library.

And then the week was over. The cousins and uncles and aunts and grunkle all went away in that massive airship. Back to the other side of Faerun from whence they had come. The staffers all breathed a sigh of relief, and the horror stories came out of the woodwork.

Listening over a far more informal dinner, Lulu and Koko together realised that the other side of their family were a pack of manipulative assholes. They had careful facades for everyone. The only honest ones were Grampa Tostaada and Grunkle Taako. Both of whom were too old to care what anyone thought of them.


	13. Chapter 13

Spring came slowly. Freeing the roads before it freed the acres of Sellsnow Farms. Which allowed the farms to ship off the ice that successive Elf Parades had tamped solid over winter. Spring brought mud and then green grass to the terraced hills, and Lulu and Koko both became part of the herding crews.

Bringing the cattle out from their underground stables to graze on the new growth. And overseeing said cattle from the backs of tame Riding Deer. Which was part of their Elven heritage.

Grampa Tostaada didn’t use the word ‘proud’. He said it was sensible. Elves were made with stealth in mind. Concealment was woven into their sleeping cotes, camouflage into their architecture. Horses thundered when they ran, and oxen crashed through the undergrowth at any speed, but a deer… ah. Those were also made to run and hide in the woods. Sure, they had hooves, but they weren’t made for thundering. They were made for bouncing between the trees. For quick escape and rapid concealment.

Of course, there were war deer. And battle elks. But those were mostly during the ‘flashy years’, when Elves had enough power and population to just dominate any other species still working out how to bang rocks together to get sharper rocks. Or any species who had briefly learned how to imitate Elven magic and then almost immolated themselves in their hubris.

That’s all the alleged glory of the Elven Empires was. A bunch of bullies kicking other species while they were down. Sometimes, shaping those other civilisations in order to use them for maximum impact. So of  _ course _ they rebelled. Of  _ course _ they made sure that Elven kind would never rise again. Of  _ course _ there was prejudice and hatred. And,  _ of course _ they used their long-time foes body parts in any dark magics.

All of which lead the Elven peoples to return to the time-honoured traditions of concealment, stealth, and brutally efficient magics.

“Time is a circle,” said Grampa Tostaada from his own mount. Leading them around the greater expanse of the estate. “Everything that happens, happens again when people forget how it worked out the last time. Or when they fool themselves that they’ve got it right this time. Those who were trod down rise up, those who had risen fall. Species take turns having their ages in the sun and then return to their ages in darkness. What’s learned is forgotten, and then discovered anew. Just like the seasons. It all goes around again.”

Koko stared at the old man, who would have looked regal on his Riding Elk if he wasn’t in coveralls and galoshes and a hat that could double as a basket if it only had handles. “Isn’t this why people are supposed to learn history? So we don’t keep repeating the same mistakes?” So we can… move forward?”

“Depends how you learn,” Grampa shrugged. “Some people see the past and want it returned, and come again to the old mistakes whilst looking for glory. Rare is the leader who wants to return to greatness, and actually means to avoid those old errors. Most often, they’re just spouting horseshit.”

Lulu, like her mount, was growing restive. “Can we see how fast these things can go, now? Please, Grampa? I’m tired of hiding. I want to  _ run.” _

Grampa chuckled, “Wandering stars…” He nodded. “Go on. Wear yourselves out. Youth was made for speed.”

“Race ya!” Lulu cheered as she took off.

Koko wasn’t far behind. The wind in his hair. The sun on his back. Keeping himself low against his beast as it leaped and bounded across the estate. A smile on his face and joy in his heart. Faster than the wind. Faster than his fears. Faster than his nightmares.

If it could last forever, he would want it to.

He was good out here.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: My dear readers, this chapter hints at, and some of the next chapters cover a character suffering from progressive dementia. Warnings like this one will be posted beforehand so y'all can gird yourself. Or skip. Your choice.

Farm chores were interesting the first time. Learning the ropes, as Grampa said, was only fun when they weren’t covered in shit.

After setting the cattle loose on the hills, they had to muck out the byres. A process that involved shovelling some down a hole until it filled, and then packing up the rest for sale at the markets. The holes, the twins learned, lead to a gigantic cesspit under the roots of the tree. And all household and farm waste kept the tree alive and healthy.

And after that noissome work - and a good bath in the hot springs with an abundance of perfumed soaps - came Sprout Patrol. Those who knew the architecture of the tree best marked certain buds and sprouting branches with ribbons. Those were the ones that had to get pruned. The tree mansion represented millennia of such careful topiary, and everyone who lived there spent some time tending to those cuttings. Some were packaged into pots of cattle shit and also sold on at the markets. For luck, Grampa said. So that other Elven families could have magnificent homes.

Growing a house out of a tree was a dying art, now. No modern Elves went through the bother, any more. Humans grew housing and buildings much faster. Without the need for clerics to Charm the first, central rooms into being.

Then there was the dairy work.

Koko didn’t mind milking the cows and the goats or even the deer in the winter. It was warm and he could do half of it in his sleep. And sometimes, the beast he was milking made a lovely warm pillow.

There were spells to keep the milk cool and fresh. Special pots that were enchanted to do so.

But now that it was summer, the work was hot and sweaty and uncomfortable. Just like the work in the kitchen, feeding everyone who laboured during the day. Including themselves.

The afternoons were the best, when just about everyone in the Estate headed to the stream and the swimming hole, to strip down and slide into the cool water for some essential relief.

Lulu was the one who announced the discovery. “Koko, there’s huge catfish in here.”

Koko, exhausted and still feeling the strain, floated spread-eagle on the water’s surface. “You catch it, you cook it, Lu.”

Lulu considered the gigantic body and the effort it would take to kill it, butcher it, and drag it all the way uphill to the mansion before finally cooking it. She kicked her legs in the water and joined her brother in floating repose. “Meh,” was all she had to say about the concept.

They’d just turned sixty-three. Still tremendously young for Elves. Grampa had marked the occasion with a feast and some of the vintage summer wines. And showed them the passage in his new will that acknowledged the young twins as his living heirs.

“You’ll never be homeless again,” said the old man. “You’ll always have a place in Sellsnow farms."

By the end of the next summer, he wouldn’t remember who they were.


	15. Chapter 15

Lulu and Koko rode their deer into the nearest town to fetch things or just hustle the locals at whatever games they had going. They were careful to win just enough to make it look like dumb luck, and were seen by enough of the residents to let the locals know that they were ‘Old Tostaada’s kids.”

The joke being, of course, that it was difficult for other species to tell how old Elves were until they were old as balls.

The people of Sheepsford were a mix of Elves, humans, and half-Elves. One of the few places in the world where humanity chose to integrate rather than persecute, and Koko was glad of it. He kept his reading glasses on for trips to this sleepy little town, as did Lulu. And the locals didn’t ask, so neither of them had to tell. The bilingual town had signs up in Common as well as Elven, so reading anything was never a problem.

But.

They knew how people often took their mismatched eyes as a sign of evil. And so, refrained from showing them.

Until on the very cusp of winter, when Koko was trying to wrangle a deal. “Tell you what. We got some pretty huge catfish up at Sellsnow Farms. How about I bring one in. Fresh as I can make it. You do the cleaning and the gutting and we cook the best damn catfish you ever tasted. That’s gotta be worth a barrel of your stout, right?”

“Tell  _ you _ what,” said the publican Praxx. “You answer a question now, and do the catfish, and  _ then _ you get the stout.”

Koko looked to his sister, who simply shrugged. “Ugh. Fine,” Koko allowed. “Ask.”

“What’s with those glasses? Every time I see you, you’re wearing them. I know you two call them your reading glasses, but… you never come here to read.”

Shit. Fuck. “Uh,” said Koko. He looked again to Lulu, who was no help. In fact, she was halfway ready to bolt. “How… do you feel… about... witch... eyes?”

Praxx stared. “You mean het-e-ro- chrome… whatever it is? Mismatched eyeballs?”

“Yeah. Them.” Koko, too, primed himself to bolt.

“Koko, uh-uh…” Lulu warned.

And then Praxx said, “Never seen any, but I think it’d be a sight.”

He took a deep breath. Trusted a stranger for the first time in his life. “Well. Feast yours, friend, because here come mine.” And took off his glasses.

Even without the pink glow, Praxx was actually kind of cute for a human. And he had a face made for boggling, which he was doing ably now. “Wow,” he said.

Lulu, emboldened, took off hers. “We’re a matched set,” she announced.

“Holy shit, that is awesome!” Praxx breathed.”Wow. That’s so unreal.”

Koko found himself hoping. Smiling. “If you think my eyes are awesome, you should try my kisses,” he blurted.

“Stoppit,” warned Lulu.

Koko switched to  _ Us. “What? He’s cute…” _

Lulu glared at him.  _ “You have atrocious taste in men. Don’t even start anything. It’s going to go bad.” _

Koko managed a wordless whine that took up most of his breath.

“Koko, mm-mm.”

He sighed, being deliberately dramatic. “Fine. Let’s go catch that damn catfish before the light’s gone.”

The catfish was so huge that they had to carry it on poles between both their mounts. And the process of cooking it would have to happen the next day.

The big baskets of the best fried catfish in Faerun were worth it, though. Even Grampa said so.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter deals with a character suffering from progressive dementia. If this upsets you, read no further.

Koko had read every book in the library by the time their second winter there was less than halfway over. He and Lulu spent more time with their Grampa, listening to family stories. The dirt on their mother and her sister. The shenanigans of their uncles in their youth. And even better, the stories of Taako and Tostaada’s misspent youths.

They all happened over mulled wine and cider and winter pies, in between Elf Parades. Funny stories, all of them. Grampa Tostaada was a natural storyteller and often had his audiences rolling in teary-eyed laughter.

He had hundreds of them. And it took a long time for them to repeat.

Koko didn’t mind, at first. He loved the stories. He barely noticed when Grampa Tostaada began to ramble between them. He could feel how they were linked. Then he started repeating the lessons that Koko had already absorbed. Even when he pleaded for the next lesson.

At the spring snow sale, Koko had to step in and wrangle a better price because Grampa was naming a price for ice that was two hundred years old and astoundingly low for the modern age. He was smooth about it, though, running Grampa’s price as the cost  _ per ounce _ rather than the price per block. After some very quick mental acrobatics and a little bit of razzle dazzle from Lulu, they finally got a profit off the merchant who had once been primed and ready to skin Grampa Tostaada for every copper he had.

The farm hands took a meeting without the old man, but got Lulu and Koko into it. This was serious business.

Their grandfather was slowly losing his mind.

He could still appear competent. And that was where things were bound to go wrong. He could pass a test once a month and legally maintain title and holding of Sellsnow Farms, but he was lost when it came to the going rate for catfish, milk, manure, cream, or butter. He didn’t know how much gold a bale of angora was, or what the asking price was for herbs from Andala.

There, Lulu and Koko would have to take over. They already had sharp business minds and an eye for the angles. The best catfish in Faerun proved that. And so had the barrels of stout that Praxx still sent up in payment for it.

Thus, their lessons in their spare time now encapsulated even more of the care and maintenance of Sellsnow Farms. The finances and the return on investment. The schemes and small things that all added up into a living, breathing farm with room to grow.

In its heyday, Sellsnow Farms was host to as many as seven generations of Sellsnows at once. Now, with Grampa, Lulu, Koko, and the otherwise homeless hires, it was just staying alive.

Better that the twins gain a reputation for dealing now, rather than be tried as newcomers later.

By the time spring was done, they already had a good reputation amongst the merchants, travelling and stationary alike. And it was a good thing, because Grampa Tostaada was fading away. Moments of clarity came and went, and it was anyone’s guess as to when he believed he was.

Someone had to take time off to keep him company. Make certain that he didn’t wander off. To ride with him when he went out riding.

Summer bloomed, and the farm devoted itself to the usual summer activities, as well as catching the largest, fattest catfish and butchering them for Lulu and Koko to make the best fried catfish in faerun.

Koko took some of the milk to whip cream out of and at least stand in some of the summer breezes. The sun was hot, but then, everything was. Cooking catfish was hot. Milking the beasts was hot. The summer sun ebbed his strength and his will and sapped his breath. Koko tried to think about how to help his Grampa as he whipped the milk. Absent motion. Absent mind. He only stopped to wind his hair up into his hat, and that was a brief fix.

They had a house. They had a place. They could be accepted here, but… he didn’t want his Grampa to fade the way he was fading. He wanted the loving old man with interesting tales back. He wanted Grampa to last longer. He wanted…

Shit. He wanted to kiss Praxx. Or even find out if Praxx like-liked him enough for the potential of kissing. Koko’s mind wandered. He’d been too busy to even think about dating. The farm was too big for this little amount of people. Too many people to feed, but not enough to farm the food they needed. Even  _ with _ the catfish.

Lulu and Koko had a sharp wit for deals, but there were only so much and so many things Sellsnow farms could sell. They needed more people to make more things to sell more things to hire more people…

“Taako!”

Koko startled. Was their Grunkle here?

“Taako, what are you  _ doing?” _

Koko looked around. No sign of his Grunkle. And Grampa was talking to him.

“You been whipping that cream so long in the hot sun that it done turned sour…”

He looked down at the bowl. It was sour. It had turned in the heat. He hadn’t thought to charm the bowl for freshness before he’d taken it out into the summer air. Then he realised that Grampa had mistaken him for his Grunkle.

“My name’s Koko, Grampa… Remember? Memala’s kids?”

“Memala ran off years ago,” he grumbled. “That loser stole her away.”

“What was his name again?” Koko asked. Hoping against hope that something would surface from the mists of time.

“Catch me dead before I say his name. Go fatten the catfish on that mess, Taako.”

“Koko, Grampa. My name’s Koko.” But he obeyed anyway, because he loved his grandfather. Throwing out the soured cream handful by handful and watching the water boil as the fish fought for a mouthful of the stuff. He let the fingerlings lip at his soiled hands before returning to the kitchen.

That was a whole ewer of milk ruined. Fatter catfish, maybe, but one less ewer for sale at the markets. If only… if only he was smarter. If only he knew one more thing they could sell. If only he had some kind of skill he could sell.

The people of Sheepsford wouldn’t look kindly on him or Lulu renting out their bodies. This was a quiet town where everyone knew everyone else. Not the sort of thing they would want getting back to their Grampa.

Koko got the next ewer’s worth and remembered to put the charm on the bowl. Tried to focus on what he was doing. Wishing for the afternoon so he could go swimming and maybe catch one of the huge catfish for cooking tomorrow.

If they took out a percentage of the older preserves and made pies for the inn…


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter deals (briefly) with a character suffering from progressive dementia. If this is a problem for you, read no further.

Lulu almost ran over the traveller. She turned her deer aside just in the nick of time, and pulled up in the little clearing. “What the fuck?” she demanded. “What’re you doing in the fruit grove, homie?”

“This is someone’s property?” asked the human. “I was wondering why it was all fruit trees, here.” They had a notebook out of their satchel and was busy taking notes. “My name’s Fillion Sellscribe, I travel to interesting places and write about them. Do you… live here?”

“Near enough to here.” Lulu looked around and smacked herself in the forehead. “The wards… Oh no. Nobody’s refreshed the wards, this season.” She sighed. “I’m moving the hives, today, pal. You might want to walk east five hundred paces. Then I’ll get back to you.”

She moved the hives as quick as she could. With long pole and smoking grass so that the bees wouldn’t hurt her. Then she went and found Mr Sellscribe. She put out the grass and kept the pole as a potential weapon. “All right. So what’s the story? What were you doing off road?”

He was busily taking notes. Sketching. Grinning. “I hope you don’t mind saying so, but you look like almost a stereotypical Elf. You’re magnificent.”

“Story. Thanks.”

He cleared his throat and stopped taking notes. “Oh. Yeah. Right. I was on my way to Reiswell? To write a piece about the apple cider they do there? But there was a pack of mercenaries on the road, so I went off road as soon as I could, and… um… I lost my bearings… And wound up in your grove. Sorry about that. What would be the easiest path to Reiswell from here?”

Lulu had no idea where Reiswell even was. “No clue, homie. We have maps in the manor, but it’s a long walk.” She dismounted to pat him down for weapons and confiscate them. He only had a camp knife for preparing food. Lulu took it anyway. Got up on her deer and hauled him across its shoulders like a sack of manure. Gave him a part of harness to hang on to and went bounding across the estate at full speed.

Koko and Grampa were shelling some of the early peas, seated together in one of the gazebo-esque cotes at the boll of the tree. They seemed to be having fun together. But it was the subtle slump in Koko’s shoulders that betrayed his sour feeling about the turn their grandfather had taken.

Koko straightened when he saw the deer, and his posture said,  _ What the fuck? _ when he saw the boots and hat of Mr Sellscribe as Lulu brought her deer to a halt.

“Since when do we take prisoners, sis?” he asked, leaving the cote to investigate. “Who is this fool and why have you got him?”

“This is Mr Filion Sellscribe. He writes about things that he goes to see. And he got  _ real _ lost on his way to Reiswell.”

“Where the fuck is Reiswell?” wondered Koko.

“Exactly,” said Lulu. “I know we got some maps and shit, so I took him here. Y’know… rather than let him wander around in the fruit grove and fuck up our bees.”

“Shit. Can’t let him fuck up our bees.” Koko helped the man onto his feet. “The penalty for that is  _ death…” _

Lulu ruined his goof by laughing. “You and Grampa look after him, okay? I’m’a put Jon back into the stables.” Strictly speaking, the riding deer didn’t have names, but Lulu had long since decided that they were all named Jon. Deer Jon or Jon Deer, it worked both ways.

When she came back, they were all in the Slightly Less Formal Dining Hall, with maps spread out across quite a curve of the table. It was an old map, and had been re-inked a number of times, and since most of it was in Elven, Koko had his reading glasses on.

“Humanmen live here,” Koko read, translating it into Common. “Wow. This is a real unhelpful map, Grampa.”

Lulu peeked over his shoulder. There was a swathe of map labeled,  _ Here there be Orcs. _ “Don’t we have… newer maps?” she prompted.

“Never needed the new ones, my love,” said Grampa. “Places never move.”

“Yeah, but sometimes they get new names,” she quipped.

Mr Sellscribe had a more modern map that didn’t cover Sheepsford. It covered the human territories, of course, but not many of the Elven ones. His had a border that declared some Elven lands, and a very few interesting points. It took some discussion, but they managed to match a couple of mountains. If he took the trade road south, he would find the human trade road that would take him back to places he knew.

Of course, by the time he worked that out, it was too late to go roaming around.

“There’s always room for lost travellers at Sellsnow Farms,” Grampa said. And neither of the young twins could counteract that.

“But we still gotta pay for the food and stuff,” added Koko. “Whatever you can spare,” he allowed.

“Don’t want to leave you destitute,” said Lulu, getting in on the scam. “Maybe even a little work to support the farm.”

“The next set of traders are due in a week,” said Koko. “You could catch a lift with them. Shouldn’t be too much trouble.”

And whatever the twins left him, the Tabaxi would fleece him for. They were  _ good _ at it. Almost better than the twins.

Mr Sellscribe had a gleam in his eye. Like he knew he was being handled. “Let me tell you about the work I do,” he began.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter deals with a character suffering from progressive dementia AND a bunch of arsehole relatives out for what they can grab. If this upsets or bothers you, read no further.

Grunkle Taako Starlight (he had changed his surname, centuries ago. Sellsnow did not sell much in the way of his brand of hokum) and his family arrived when Lulu and Koko were out swinging a deal with some of the Tabaxi. Word had got around in less than a month about Sellsnow farms, and people were coming from outside of Elven lands in general and Sheepsford in particular to come and see the quaint little farm and the quiet little village.

Neither of which were so quiet, any more. Rich people’s kids were coming to experience authentic country life, and spending more than a fair amount of gold. Wandering mendicant types were coming for a place to stay, and some were willing to work for their room and board. Many were willing to get dirty.

And then the Starlights came. They ransacked the mansion and storerooms while everyone else was busy with other things. Certainly, it was wonderful to have extra hands, but those new hands had to be taught. The rich kids laughed at their own ineptitude whilst the mendicant sort threw themselves wholesale into their work. Doing their utmost. Of the two, Koko much preferred the mendicants. They at least put an honest effort into it.

Koko first knew about the Starlight side of the family when he checked on Grampa and found him with his Grunkle, swapping old stories with each other and seeming brighter and more on-game than he had all season. For a moment, Koko had a glimmer of hope.

Until he saw the same fog in his Grunkle’s eyes that had haunted his Grampa’s. They were both slipping. This was just the both of them holding each other up. Just like he and Lulu had done so very many times whenever they were in tough times on the road.

Where one sank, the other would rise up. Where one failed, the other would succeed.

His aunts and uncles were all in the Formal Dining Hall. Conversing in a twin-tongue that belonged to the elders, and got passed to the younger ones. The grand table was full of paperwork, and one of his aunts was writing in code.

Koko brought them a dish of barley and catfish. Something that could be shared without staining the paperwork. They told him to put it on a sideboard and after he obeyed, he checked over their shoulders. “Is there something I can help with?” He couldn’t read any of it. It was all in Elven and he hadn’t thought to take his reading glasses in with him.

Aunty Kash took him away from the big table. Talked in hushed tones. “You and Lulu have been doing an admirable job keeping the farm together all this time, especially given your grandfather’s… condition,” she said. “We’ve been dreading a time like this for years, and we’ve all been preparing. Studying. Working on how to… help.”

There was something about the way she was picking her words. Koko thought of the Tabaxi ways of bending the truth to fit their needs. But she was family. She wanted to help family. Didn’t she? “...’kay?” he said.

“That’s why we’re going through all of your Grampa’s papers. Just to sort everything out. You and Lulu won’t be managing this huge estate all on your own any more. And you had a wonderful idea with making the Estate a kind of hostel. But your uncles and aunties are here to take  _ all _ your worries away. You’re never dealing with all this on your own again. We’re here to help.”

“...kay,” he allowed.

“Just leave all the financial stuff to us,” she cooed. “There’ll be some changes, and it will be a little rough for a time, but it’s all for the greater good. We’ll keep the farm going, of course. Keep finding ways to keep it alive. And you and your sister will always have a place here.”

Well. That was something of a relief. “Can I tell Lulu?”

“Of course,” she said. “Run and tell her straight away.”

He’d learn, a lot later, that her smile was that of a manipulative arsehole. But he was still young. Naive. And he had been taught to trust family. Grampa had given him that lesson. And he would live to regret it.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: This chapter makes mention of characters suffering from progressive dementia. It's brief, but it's there. Gird yourself or skip as you whist.

The family swarmed. As did the mendicant hires. Sweeping the entire complex of the manor clean. Taking inventory. Measuring every room and cote in the mansion. Clearing flues, changing and washing bedding. Taking rugs out to be beaten. Lining up everything that was in every room. In every drawer. In every secret little nook.

And with the cleaning came a re-ordering. The best and the biggest rooms would have to go to the paying customers. Of course they would. You understand, don’t you? There’s a clever child.

The Dovecote Suites were for the paying guests. Of course. They were very fine. And of course the family portraits would have to be moved out. We don’t want strangers ruining them, do we? Of course not.

Lulu didn’t let them go as far as taking hers and Koko’s stuff ‘for safekeeping’. She was wise to that nonsense and squirreled away their things in one of the long-abandoned escape tunnels that the other side of the family couldn’t be bothered with.

Things were starting to smell fishy.

Old things were sold for gold. Of course they had to. They had to have good bedding for the paying guests. And the best food. Lulu and Koko knew the  _ best _ about that, so they were in charge in the kitchens.

But every other month, they were moved downwards another floor. Because the more the family worked on Sellsnow farms, the more guests came. The more guests there were, the more gold they got. The more gold there was, the more they needed to put a good face on the place.

There were uniforms for the staff. And less of the estate grounds got farmed. Can’t have the guests tromping through a muddy old farmland. That wouldn’t do for the look. They could cart supplies in. More variety for the guests. You understand. Of course you understand.

Lulu quickly realised that the Starlight side of the family kept calling them smart children when they were taking privilege away from them. The smarter they were, the more they understood, the lower and lower they went. Both in terms of lodging and in terms of status.

Koko was glad of the fashionable uniforms, and learning how to look good. And having enough hair to do something decent with. And even though the ameliorating jewellery they got was gimcrack stuff, he paraded around like it was a collection of crown jewels.

And that was why Lulu let it go on as long as it did.

Riding the deer became a management perk, and a treat for paying guests. The task of rearing the animals got shipped out to satellite farms so that paying guests didn’t have to deal with cow pies or belligerent goats wandering around. The deer were the big draw. So the deer stayed.

Sheepsford became a tourist trap. Glitzy, glamorous businesses made to fill rich people’s time. Dance halls. Gambling halls. Wine tasting halls. High art galleries and houses for low desires. One by one, the people who were born in and had lived in Sheepsford were priced out of their homes and edged out of their livelihoods.

And they woke up one morning and Sheepsford had been renamed Star River. And the place they knew as Sellsnow Farms was now Starlight Estates. They were no longer family, but servants. Not to be seen above a certain level unless called for. Working every waking hour. Kept apart from their cousins for reasons that they -of course- had to understand…

And not recognised by their Grampa or their Grunkle when the old men wandered down to see whether there was any cider.

Only allowed to eat the scraps - if there were any - from the meal servings. Of course they understood. The guests came first. Just for now. Next season, it would all be better. They understood.

The breaking point came in the wee small hours of an otherwise lovely spring morning. Just like the lovely spring day before that they did not even get to peek at.

Koko, fresh from his turn at meditating, said, “You know what? Screw this.”

Lulu had never been happier to hear it. “I know a way out of here that they don’t,” she said. “I got all our good stuff. We can go whenever.”

Koko said, “Bet’cha five gold that they tore up any papers that said we own this place.”

Lulu snorted in agreement.

Then Koko said, “Let’s ditch this joint.”


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An epilogue for a happy story that done turned sour.

It was a beautiful spring morning. The sun was colouring the sky as they exited the old tunnel that ancient Sellsnows had made to escape the estate if the worst happened. They had better gear than they might expect. They had their grimoire,  _ Uncle Jon’s Elven Bathroom Reader, _ and they had everything they could need to make their way to wherever.

They had no maps. No supplies. The knowledge in their heads, and no family name.

But it was better than where they’d been.

Koko picked up a stick and gave it a whirl in midair. The stick landed pointing in a direction away from what was once Sellsnow farms. He looked to Lulu.

“Good enough for me,” she said. “Let’s happen to whatever’s that-a-way.”

He took his sister’s hand, setting off in the direction that the stick pointed. They could find ample forage. They could wing it wherever they went. They could glibly lie, cheat, steal, hustle, and otherwise just  _ happen _ to whatever people they met along the way.

Life would be rough. It would be hard. It would be cruel.

But it was better than being a servant in a place they should have owned legally.

And it was better than being a prisoner in a place that was made to create Elven slaves.

And whatever they were headed towards, they were ready to take it on.

It was going to be a beautiful day. Koko was simply glad just to see it.


End file.
